


You're The Drug That I'm Addicted To

by carrotcouple



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Not completely canon compliant, Past Allen was a Bookman Theory, Unresolved Romantic Tension, and neah's personality, but it's fine cause, i took liberties with past allen's personality, some past events may have been tweaked, we don't know anything about them anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrotcouple/pseuds/carrotcouple
Summary: “If I loved you,” Neah says half delirious as Allen kicks open a door and marches towards a bed covered in records, “would you love me back?”“No,” Allen replies softly but firmly as he shoves the records off the bed. “Bookmen don’t love.”
Relationships: Nea D. Campbell/Allen Walker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 86





	You're The Drug That I'm Addicted To

“You should stop smoking,” Allen says. Neah glances at the Bookman Jr. and sighs. 

“You don’t get to tell me about unhealthy addictions, you sweet tooth,” Neah grumbles.

“No, I don’t. But I do get to tell you to stop smoking in a library,” Allen deadpans, walking up to him. 

“ _But I have to. I haven’t smoked in a day and a half thanks to you Bookmen being-_ ” Neah starts to whine and then stops when Allen takes the cigarette from his mouth. - with slim and calloused fingers covered in tiny paper cut scars - and leans in close, breath fanning against Neah’s smoke kissed lips.

“I can help you and your oral fixation,” Allen murmurs. Neah’s eyes narrow and he tangles his fingers into long red locks. 

“You always try to tempt me,” Neah says, eyes glued to the shiny hair pinned between his fingers. 

“Are you tempted?” Allen asks, not even seductively. Just _curiously_.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Neah asks back, before burying both his hands into that mane of hair, pulling Allen forward and breathing him in like he is the nicotine that Neah so craves. Allen is a distraction. A pleasant distraction from everything. The Noahs, the Millenium Earl, _Mana_.

Neah let’s Allen’s hands fumble across his collar before settling against his nape, freshly trimmed fingernails digging into the hairline and ripping a growl from Neah’s throat. 

The both of them hear the creak of the room door and Allen pulls on the hair at the back of Neah’s head to part their lips with a soft pop. 

“Allen, did you finish the records for our last log?” Bookman’s voice calls out, his voice almost muffled by the endless number of books in the room. Allen smiles cheekily at Neah and then walks away, leaving Neah wanting more. 

“I did, I left it on your desk, didn’t you notice?” Allen asks. 

“Don’t be smart with me. I always tell you to give me documents directly,” Bookman says and then Neah hears the two of the walk out.

“Ah,” Neah mutters unhappily. “He took my cigarette.”

* * *

“Bookman…and Allen,” Neah tries not to roll his eyes at the almost genuine smile on Allen’s face. “We run into each other very often it seems,” Neah comments. Often enough for Allen to have gotten close enough to kiss him, so it seemed. 

“It’s not surprising,” Bookman says. “After all, we have similar interests,” 

“Well, if we are heading in the same way, may I intrude on your library?” Neah asks. Bookman eyes him and then glances at Allen who is still beaming pleasantly. 

“Of course, so long as the information does not leave you without our permission,” Bookman says. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Neah says. 

“How have your latest adventures been? Caused any wars?” Allen asks as Neah falls into stride beside them.

“How is that your opening question?” Neah glances at the other. 

“Well, did you?” Allen asks. 

“No,” Neah shakes his head. “I have other things to be doing.”

“Oh?” Allen leans towards him, his eyes sparkling in interest behind his glasses. “Do enlighten me. Whatever could a Noah find more important than causing chaos?” Allen asks. Neah leans away, feeling rather uncooperative. 

“Maybe if you tell me what you’re always writing in that little green notebook of yours,” Neah says. 

“You play dirty,” Allen pouts and straightens up as they arrive at the Bookman's lodging. 

“Says a Bookman that would do anything to get records,” Neah shoots Allen a smirk and then ducks into the room packed with books and stacks of papers. Neah can easily spot Allen’s work area, littered with small paper wrappings for sweets. “Ah reminds me,” Neah digs into his pocket, pulling out the toffee Road had handed to him before he had gone on his way. “Allen, do you want thi-”

“I do!” Allen throws himself at Neah, grabbing his hand and wrenching the toffee out of his grip. “Thanks! I’ll buy you some smokes!” Allen presses a quick kiss to Neah’s lips and then darts out of the room. Neah is frozen for a moment, unsure of whether he should look at Bookman or not. 

Bookman grunts in disinterest and picks his way through books and documents. Neah can barely see the floor and he wonders how the other does it.

“You’re not bothered?” Neah asks Bookman. “I thought Bookmen had no need for attachments?” 

“You think Allen is attached to you?” Bookman turns to look at Neah. Neah tries not to be bothered at the way the Bookman seems to be almost reading him. “Attraction does not equal to attachment. Allen is well aware of that.” 

“So am I,” Neah says. 

_Because he really is._

Neah doesn’t have time to waste pining after a Bookman of all people. 

* * *

Allen ties his hair into a bun when he reads. He’s used to it, Neah realizes, as he watches Allen’s deft fingers scoop up ridiculous amounts silky red hair and then use a hair tie to make a bun. It’s impossible to get all of his hair, it’s too silky for that and some strands fall down the sides of his face. His neck is bared. 

Neah feels...comfortable.

A strange feeling, one he hasn’t really felt since his journey to protect Mana from the Millenium Earl started. 

“Do you want a book recommendation?” Allen turns. He’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by a pile of books. Neah is trying to figure out how on earth the Bookmen try to categorize their...towers of books. 

“Do you know what I’m looking for?” Neah asks. 

“Supernatural phenomena?” Allen asks. 

“Did Bookman tell you?” Neah crouches beside Allen. 

“No,” Allen grins. “A guess.” Allen shoots up, weaves his way through the sea of books with ease and then picks up a random book. “Here you go,” 

Neah moves across the room with less finesse, unused to having to avoid books in his path. He takes the book from Allen’s hands and looks at the cover. There is no title there, as most Bookmen books are. _How they manage to find their books remains a mystery_. Neah flips open the first page and is pleased to see it is exactly the kind of book he is looking for. 

“Thank you,” Neah says. 

“And?” Allen asks. 

“...’and’?” Neah raises an eyebrow. Allen frowns and then slings his arms around Neah’s shoulders.

“I found you a book. You should give me something in return.” It’s that cheeky little grin, the one that makes Neah’s insides twist uncomfortably and make his eyes itch. Allen is beautiful and he knows that. Neah has seen that in the way he will flirt his way out of paying bills. Neah has seen that in the way he will sometimes see kisses bloomed across Allen’s neck and taste alcohol on his tongue. 

Neah doesn’t like that. 

“Do you have something in mind?” Neah asks. Allen’s tongue darts out of his mouth to lick at his pink lips. They’re never chapped, no matter how much the other chews on them when writing his records. 

“There is an expensive cake shop down the street. I want to eat there.” Allen beams brightly. 

_Of course_.

Neah prefers this. 

“Alright then,” Neah agrees. He does have more money than he needs, after all. 

* * *

“Is this a date?” Allen asks. 

“No,” Neah replies emotionlessly, his eyes scanning the chicken scrawl of a menu. Expensive his foot. If it wanted to push it’s prices up like this, the shop should have had someone literate write their menu. 

“It’s a date!” Allen gasps cheerfully, like he’s discovered all the secrets of the universe.

“No,” Neah says again. But it’s not like Allen will listen to him anyways. 

“Chiffon cake,” Allen points at the chicken scrawl that Neah has been trying to decipher for the last two minutes. Neah refuses to be angry at the fact that Allen knew exactly what he was looking at. “What do you want, Neah?” Allen asks. 

“Nothing,” Neah frowns. “I don’t like sweets.”

“Then a coffee!” Allen says. 

“Sure, whatever,” Neah shrugs. 

“After this, do you want to go to a hotel?” Allen asks. Neah looks up at him sharply and Allen bursts into laughter. Neahs sighs. 

“Not funny, Allen. Just go order what you want. The sooner you eat, the sooner we can leave. I want to read that book.” Neah pushes the illegible menu at Allen and he smiles happily as he picks it up and goes to the front of the shop to order cake. He takes a while and Neah watches him list off the names of multiple different cakes, his lips shaping around the names of the cakes perfectly. 

Allen has already mastered the local accent.

Neah may want to kiss him. 

Allen returns much later than he needs to, sliding into the seat, holding one wrist gingerly. Neah sends a not-so-subtle murderous glare in the direction of the man at the counter. The man squawks, as if he only just realized Allen came with someone not only much better dressed than him, but also clearly much richer. 

“Show me,” Neah says, holding out his hand. 

“Why would I?” Allen sniffs grumpily, looking away. “You didn’t interfere.”

“I thought you wanted your cakes?” Neah asks, taking Allen’s arm anyways to see the handprint shaped bruise on Allen’s wrist. 

“I do! But that man was being a bully! He kept asking if I could really pay!” Allen looks extremely discontent. 

“So no cakes?” Neah looks up. 

“What are you talking about? Let’s eat our cakes and destroy him!” Allen says. 

“Oh? And how do you propose we do that?” Neah asks. Allen’s grin is a mad one, one Neah has almost never seen him wear. Bookman is probably shaking his head in disappointment somewhere. Allen leans over the table to whisper in Neah’s ear. 

“What if we made it so that no customer comes to him after this?” Allen asks, his voice soft, like powdered snow. Gentle, mischievous, transfixing. Neah wants to press kiss after kiss against that throat that produces such sounds. 

“Public indecency is a crime,” Neah says. 

“Only if you’re caught,” Allen says. 

“Very well then, have it your way,” Neah agrees. Allen’s no good grin widens. 

Neah loves him like that. 

* * *

As Neah expects, he runs into Allen when he accidentally rooms in a town that breaks into some kind of riot in the middle of the night. He wakes up to the inn on fire and he sighs as he climbs out the window and drop down three floors effortlessly. He can hear gunshots and screaming and thinks instantly of red hair and silver eyes that twinkle behind round glasses. Cursing under his breath, he walks towards where things look to be worst. 

He sees Allen yelp as he dodges a bullet and then watches him trip over a fallen body. The man with the gun aims at Allen again and Neah moves, kicking the man in the face and sending him crashing into the wall. The man screams with a mixture of fear and rage and shoots at Neah. 

It doesn’t even hurt.

“That’s not even innocence, you can’t hurt me,” Neah scoffs. 

“Neah!” Allen jumps back up to his feet, a smile on his face, covered in blood, but uncaring. 

“Monster!” The man shrieks. 

“Oh?” Neah grins. He kicks the man again. And then again. And then again. Again. _Again._ Until the man’s screams are harmonious with the crackle of his breaking bones and snaps of his flesh tearing. Neah loses himself in the madness, feels the Noah on the edge of his soul, relishes in the blood and flesh painting his clothes. “You humans are so interesting! You shoot me full of bullets and then you dare call me a monster?” Neah laughs hysterically. 

“Neah,” Allen grabs his arm and Neah throws him off. Allen trips over a fallen corpse again and smacks his head against the ground. “Ow!” Allen cries out. “Rude!” Allen throws a stone at Neah and Neah freezes, turning to radiate his bloodlust in Allen’s direction again. “I could have broken my glasses! And that’s enough! He’s already dead!”

“You would get in the way of my justice?” Neah asks coldly, the Noah in him begging for blood. Allen is covered in blood. Neah wants to paint his skin in it. 

“If you do anymore damage then I’d have to write about a Noah in my records, do you want that?” Allen deadpans, unafraid, looking at Neah straight in the eyes. Neah blinks, his bloodlust fading almost immediately. 

“You’re a freak,” Neah says after momentary silence.

“Says the Noah that just kicked someone to death in less than thirty seconds!” Allen snapped. “Now help me up!”

“Yes, yes,” Neah says and then takes Allen’s hand to pull him up. Allen’s ankle is swollen and apparently _it’s clearly Neah’s fault_. So Neah helps Allen limp his way through the rest of his assignment. The riot dies down eventually. Anyone living has already fled the town. Neah and Allen stand in silence, interrupted only by the occasional snap of wood splintering in flames. 

“Thank you,” Allen says, nuzzling his cheek into Neah’s neck. 

“I figured you’d be around here,” Neah says. 

“Kiss me?” Allen asks. 

Neah obliges, scooping Allen closer, supporting him with both arms so as to not put any strain on his ankle and then he kisses Allen, long and hard. 

* * *

“Are you really sure about coming with me?” Neah asks Road. She had been adamant about it despite usually sticking to Mana’s side. Road grins one of those fake-innocent grins at him. 

“Of course, I wanted to see why your bills over the past few months have been bills for sweets shops,” she says. Neah wants to pick her up and throw her into the nearest river for daring to go through his wallet at all. 

“That is none of your business,” Neah tells her, with a fake smile of his own. 

“Of course, but, Neah, you hates sweets. I couldn’t help but be somewhat curious!” Road says happily. For all Neah knows, Mana put her up to this. It’s harder to evade Mana and Road’s pranks lately. He’s been tired, trying to find ways to keep Mana safe from the Millenium Earl and protect this small family he’s made for himself. 

“Again, that’s none of your busi-” Neah starts and then a building near them blows up, almost throwing them off their feet. And they would have flown at the impact of explosion if they were anything but Noahs. 

Much to Neah’s expectations and dismay, Allen comes flying out of the explosion, his glasses dirt smudged and his hair flying wildly in the wind as he clutches a bag of what looks like books to himself. Allen’s eyes catches his own and he smiles brightly, immediately skidding to a halt and dashing at Neah. 

“Call your goons off me! I’m not food!” Allen shouts. Neah sighs and looks at what’s pursuing Allen. A pair of level one demons. Allen grabs Neah’s shoulders and ducks behind him. Neah glares at the demons that immediately halt in place. 

“Back off, this one is not yours to kill,” Neah says coldly. The demons immediately zoom away and Allen peeks out from behind Neah. “And? What exactly were you doing?” Neah asks Allen. 

“What I’m always doing! Recording a war! A war!” Allen says. 

“Which involves demons?” Neah asks. 

“They killed the spy I was tailing!” Allen pouts. 

“Where is Bookman?” Neah asks Allen.

“He’s following a group of politicians,” Allen comes out from behind Neah and dusts his clothes off. Allen then takes off his glasses and wipes them with a handkerchief he produces from thin air. 

“I could tell all demons to back off of you and the Bookman,” Neah murmurs, picking a piece of rubble out of Allen’s hair and noticing the smattering of hickies on the side of his neck now revealed by the hair that Neah has been touching. 

“Really now?” Allen asks with interest in his silver eyes. 

“It’s not like either of you are interfering with us Noahs. You both are practically harmless. And I would like to keep visiting your library.” Neah smooths down Allen’s hair. 

“Hm, Neah, who’s this pretty child?” Road speaks up and Neah curses himself for having momentarily forgotten her presence. She had been unusually quiet. Allen blinks at her. 

“Hello, I’m Allen, or you could call me Bookman Jr.!” Allen says. 

“What he says,” Neah gestures at Allen. 

“I’m Road, the Noah of Dreams,” Road smiles way too softly for it to mean anything good.

“Oh! Another Noah! I should have known!” Allen nods firmly.

“So how do the two of you know each other?” Road asks. Neah rolls his eyes. There’s no way to get out of this, so he’ll just let what happens happen.

“Neah frequently visits the Bookman library!” Allen points at Neah and Neah is tempted to nip at the finger. 

“Hm,” Road turns to look at him and Neah ignores her in favor of snapping at Allen to fix his hair.

* * *

Everything burns, everything hurts. There’s blood in his eyes. Neah can barely see. He tries to breathe and get rid of the flames in his lungs, but it’s near impossible. He wants to say his heart hurts, but he’s not really sure. Does he have a heart? He made his family turn on him for his own gain. _For Mana, Mana, Mana, Mana_.

And yet Mana looked at him like that. 

_“Know that there is no safe place for you, not anymore,”_

Fire in his lungs, like the cigarette smoke that he inhaled as often as possible. It reminds him of Allen. Smoke filled kisses they exchanged and Allen’s sharp tongue muttering about how bitter Neah tasted. Neah’s head reels. 

_It hurts_.

“Neah!” 

Allen’s voice. 

Neah lifts his head just enough to see Allen looking out of breath, a strange look on his face as he takes in Neah’s appearance amidst the destruction around him. 

Neah lost. He lost against the Millenium Earl. 

_He wasn’t able to protect Mana_.

“I’ve got you,” Allen’s voice is by Neah’s ear now and he picks Neah up, easily hauling Neah onto his back. 

“Won’t Bookman tell you that you’re being stupid?” Neah manages to rasp out. 

“We’re not focusing recording the war between the Noahs and the innocence just yet. Although we have as much information as we could get on you, we’re not so deep in that I can’t do this,” Allen says simply. 

Neah feels alone, he feels tired, he wants to cry. 

_He just wanted to change their fate_.

He is alone, the entire world has turned their backs to him. So why is Allen here?

“If I loved you,” Neah says half delirious as Allen kicks open a door and marches towards a bed covered in records, “would you love me back?”

“No,” Allen replies softly but firmly as he shoves the records off the bed. “Bookmen don’t love.”

“Then why are you helping me?” Neah asks. Allen settles him down on the bed and takes off his boots. 

“Because, sometimes even Bookmen have friends.” The last thing Neah sees is Allen brushing blood matted hair out of Neah’s eyes, an indecipherable look on his face.

_If I loved you, would you let me stay?_

* * *

Neah lights a cigarette as he leans on the railing of the bridge and takes in what the sun looks like as it rises over the river. He wants a bath, he’s been on the run for far too long. Having demons come after him constantly regardless of the fact that he’s a Noah himself is infuriating. He’s tired and wants to sleep. He almost slaps his head into the railing when someone jumps and seats themselves directly onto the railing, hands grabbing out to make sure they don’t fall off. 

“You look awful,” Allen sings. 

“Thank you. I can’t possibly look half as good as a nerd that reads books all night,” Neah deadpans, turning to look at the other. He’s beautiful, the first rays of sunlight complimenting his hair. Bookman is standing off to the side, staring quietly. Neah knows what he’s thinking. If Allen associates with Neah too much, the Noah will come after the Bookmen as well. 

“Wow, mean,” Allen says. Allen called Neah a friend. But Neah knows better. Bookmen cannot have attachments that will cost them their records and Neah is one such attachment. “Have you been eating?”

“One good thing about being a Noah is that I can’t die of starvation,” Neah shrugs. 

“I could never live like that,” Allen says. “Come on, I’ll get you some food.” Allen jumps off the railing and holds out his hand to Neah. Neah eyes his hand and then glances back at Bookman. 

“Allen,” Bookman says quietly. 

“Oh hush,” Allen frowns. “I’m just giving him food!” 

“Allen,” Bookman says sterner. 

“No,” Allen stomps his foot on the ground. “We’re not recording the Noahs and I’m not about to get myself killed, so this is fine. Come on, Neah.” Allen grabs Neah’s arm and tugs Neah with him. Bookman sighs heavily and follows them. 

* * *

“Are you leaving already?” Bookman asks Neah as he gets up as soon as Allen has dozed off. Neah puts the book he had been reading down. He wonders how on earth the Bookmen managed to travel with so many records. 

“He’s asleep, so I should go,” Neah shrugs. 

“He’s probably not asleep,” Bookman scoffs. 

“Is that so?” Neah asks, glancing back at Allen who breathes softly into whatever record he had been reading. 

“Do you want a smoke?” Bookman asks, digging a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. Neah knows that this is an invitation to talk. Why the Bookman would be risking everything to give Neah some sense of security, Neah doesn’t know. But Neah nods, accepting the cigarette Bookman holds out for him. They exit the room to lean out on the balcony. 

“You didn’t strike me the type to bend to your student’s whims,” Neah says as he lights the cigarette. 

“Bookmen are human,” Bookman says. “And as Allen says, we are not recording your war. Not yet.” 

“Not yet,” Neah laughs. “So this is reference for the future?”

“You can call it that,” Bookman nods. 

“If you take down this reference, you may find yourself in the middle of a war encompassing the entire world, you know that, don’t you?” Neah asks. 

“I do,” Bookman agrees. 

“Is this pity?” Neah asks. 

“It’s empathy,” Bookman says. 

“Bookmen don’t need hearts,” Neah says, mostly to himself. 

“Empathy on Allen’s side,” Bookman says. 

“So you bend to your student’s whims after all,” Neah says. 

“Maybe,” Bookman shrugs. “Allen has grown attached to you. You are no longer ink.”

“Ink?” Neah asks curiously. Bookman shoots him a look.

“Ink on paper,” Bookman says. Neah sucks in a sharp breath. _Ink on paper_. So...up until recently he had been nothing but ink on paper to Allen, someone who’s story Allen may never write. Well, if Bookmen were guardians of history, who is Neah to deny them the truth?

Allen is probably awake anyways.

“I hope you’re prepared,” Neah says. 

* * *

Blood. 

Blood, blood, blood, _blood_.

There’s a broken tooth on Neah’s tongue and he spits it out. How long would it take for him to regrow another one? Blood blocks his airways and Neah chokes, spitting out blood and dirt. He hacks out more blood and he feels like ripping out his lungs just to keep himself from swallowing blood down the wrong pipe. 

The sword in his hand burns and Mana’s face flashes before his eyes.

 _I want to see Allen_.

“Neah!” Neah’s eyes snap open to see Allen standing there, staring at him with wide and determined eyes. “Neah, use me!” Neah’s heart thumps in his chest. _What is Allen talking about?_ “I will protect your memories from others!” _But what about your dream to be a Bookman?_ “No matter how long it takes until you awaken! No matter what!”

_But what about you?_

_What about you?_

_What about my heart that yearns for you?_

_If I loved you, would you take those words back?_

“No,” Neah gasps out.

“Yes,” Allen says crouching in front of him. 

“You’re a Bookman,” Neah hisses.

“And you are history that I wish to guard,” Allen says firmly. 

“What would Bookman say?” Neah asks. 

“I already told him and he gave me permission,” Allen says, fire in his eyes. 

_If I loved you, would you stop?_

“Don’t,” Neah says. “Do you know what that means for you?”

“I will vanish when you awaken,” Allen says simply. 

“And you still-” Neah gasps as pain wracks through his body. 

“Even so, I want to protect what you know, what you’re doing to change the world,” Allen says. “I’m a Bookman and you, Neah, are a treasure trove of history I wish to protect.”

 _Mana_.

Neah couldn’t pine, he couldn’t beg Allen to stop. Neah had Mana and Allen...Allen was just a Bookman that was aiding his cause. 

“Alright,” Neah whispers.

_If I loved you, would you love me back?_

Allen buries his hands in Neah’s hair and kisses him. It tastes like blood. 

* * *

_Ah, it’s Allen. His hair is white. He’s young. It’s Allen. Allen is facing Mana._

“Tyki?...”

_Ah, it’s not my Allen._

“I’m the Noah of Destruction. The fourteenth, Neah.” Neah smiled. 

_“Neah! The police are coming! Run!”_

_“Stop smiling, damn it! You’re the one that got us into this!”_

_Not my Allen._

* * *

_“Oh?” Allen leans towards Neah, interested, as he always is when it comes to the Noah. “Do enlighten me. Whatever could a Noah find more important than causing chaos?” Allen asks. Unfortunately, Neah leans away from Allen._

_“Maybe if you tell me what you’re always writing in that little green notebook of yours,” Neah says, giving him a challenging look._

_“You play dirty,” Allen pouts and straightens up, looking away from the other._

If I told you I sketched in that notebook and there were multiple sketches of you, would you still treat me the same?

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, first and foremost, I have no exact theory of what happened in the past. I just made things to fit the fic. I woke up one morning, wrote the first few lines and then went back to sleep and when I woke up again I decided, "hey this would make a fun fic!" I actually don't ship neallen as much as I ship laven, which is my primary Allen ship. But neallen angst is strong. 
> 
> tumblr, twitter, insta: @carrotcouple


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